


The Solo Pine

by spikesgirl58



Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cold winter night in the forest makes Napoleon realize he's not alone</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Solo Pine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [open_channel_d](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=open_channel_d).



Trudging through the snow, Napoleon kept his head bent, watching his snowshoes struggle forward a few inches at a time.  He was chilled to the bone, grumpy, and night was falling. Worse than that were the memories, bitter and sharp, that kept flashing back to him. 

It was Vermont and he was ten, all grown up to his way of thinking.  The men were going sugaring and he wanted to go along to help.  When they told him he was too young, Napoleon decided to show them how wrong they were.  He grabbed a pail, a couple of splies, a hook, some matches, and a hammer.  Off Napoleon went in search of a maple tree.

The nights were still brutally cold, the days sunny and warm, just what was needed to make the sap run and he at least found the perfect tree.  He tapped it, hung the collection bucket and suddenly Napoleon realized he   had no idea where he was.

“I think we should stop and make camp here.”  Illya said abruptly.

 Napoleon rolled his eyes skyward.  _Thank God he’s finally stopped,_ Napoleon thought and struggled out of his pack.  They were still another day’s journey from their pick-up point. 

From the view of the casual observer, it was a picture perfect mission.  They had gotten in, achieved their purpose and left without THRUSH even having a clue.  When THRUSH shot off the rocket tomorrow, it would be an eye opening experience for them all. 

Napoleon arched his back and grimaced at the aches.  The snow and cold just made him ache all over.  His memories made them worse.  Alone and lost in the woods, not the place for a young boy.  He was under-dressed for the cold and he stumbled around, flailing his arms, trying to keep warm.  He was about to collapse when he remembered the matches.  That fire had saved him, not so much by keeping him warm, but the search party spotted it.   The found him stretched out on the ground, half frozen, but still alive.

He lived, but it had left him with a strong dislike for the snow and cold. Napoleon suddenly realized that Illya was talking to him.  “I’m sorry, Illya.  What did you say?”

“I asked if you were okay?  You haven’t said very much in the last three hours.”

“Busy trying to breath, I guess.  I’m not cut out for this weather, not like you.  My idea of a hike is along a sun drenched beach with the warm ocean lapping at my feet.”

“Sorry.  At least tomorrow night, you will be in a nice hotel surrounded by luxury.”

“I know.”  Napoleon slapped his heads together and tried to sound happy.  “So what’s first?”

                                                                                ****

They got the pup tent pitched and built a little fire, just enough to warm their c-rations over.  As the night drew in, Napoleon became more and more withdrawn.

“I’m going to get some more wood,” he announced, but Illya caught his hand.

“We mustn’t.  We aren’t so far that THRUSH can’t spot us.” 

Reluctantly, Napoleon pulled free of Illya’s grasp. “THRUSH didn’t even know we were there.  There’s no reason to worry.  Besides, I’m freezing.”

“Then let’s turn in.  The sooner we sleep, the sooner we can break camp.”  This had been the moment Napoleon dreaded and Illya sensed it.  “What is wrong, Napoleon?  You have been in a funk all day.”

At any other time, Napoleon would have laughed of Illya’s use of funk, but his humor had fled earlier in the day.  “Let’s get some sleep.”

Illya covered the fire with snow and the dark, which had been crouching at bay, sprang in, enveloping them.  Hurried, Napoleon found the zipper and got into the tent.   He lit the battery operated lantern

There was only enough room inside for one of them to strip off at a time.  Napoleon pulled off his boots and his jacket and climbed into his sleeping bag practically all in one motion.  He grabbed his parka and threw it on top.  The air mattress kept him off the ground, but the bag was still freezing cold. 

Napoleon huddled into a ball, dropping his head as Illya entered the tent, letting a blast of cold air in.  Napoleon stuck his head out, meaning to complain and suddenly Illya was right there, wiggling into the bedroll with him.

“What are you doing, Illya?”  Napoleon kept his voice even.  He’d long held a strong attraction for his partner, but managed to keep it at bay by frantic dating and cold showers.  Only in his dreams did Illya come to Napoleon and now, suddenly, Illya was in his arms, warm and very real.

“It’s a Siberian survival technique.” Illya grabbed his sleeping bag and piled it on top.  “We generate more heat together than apart.”  He turned off the lantern and the tent grew very dark.

For a moment, there was some general wiggling and twisting as each man tried to carve out a little space for themselves, but eventually they ended up like two spoons in a drawer.  Napoleon felt Illya’s breath against the back of his neck and shivered, although not from the cold.  Illya’s arm was over Napoleon’s waist and it felt so natural, so good.

“Napoleon?”

“Illya?”

“Now will you tell me what has been bothering you all day?  It can’t be the mission.  Did I do or say something?”

“It’s nothing you did, Illya.  Sadly, this is all about me.”

“And?”

“When I was about ten, I got lost in the woods one winter.  I nearly froze to death before they found me.  I never had much love for the cold after that.”

“Why would they let you wander in the woods alone?”

“I wanted to prove something to them.”

“Did you?”

“Not really.”

“So, the real basis for this is not that you nearly died, but rather that you were proven wrong?”

“What?  No, I just…”

“Are you cold now?”

“No.”  Napoleon had to admit the sleeping bag was very warm and he was very comfortable.  Having Illya this close was both comforting and exciting.  Illya’s arm tightened around him and Napoleon smiled in the dark.  He suddenly wanted this night to last forever.

“I will never leave you, Napoleon, and as long as you are with me, you never need to fear the cold.  I will keep you warm.”

“Thank you.”  Napoleon dozed off, his thoughts untroubled.

The wind woke him.  It made the tent flap and pop.  His first inclination was to move, to get out, but Illya’s arm held him in place. 

“Don’t worry about the wind, Napoleon.  If you must worry about something , worry about what I am going to do to you when we get to the hotel.”

“I’m sorry?”  Napoleon tried to twist in the bag, but there wasn’t room.

“This isn’t exactly a Siberian survival technique.”

“It isn’t?”

Something hard prodded Napoleon in the small of his back   “Not exactly.  I know you prefer something a bit softer and with more curves…”

Napoleon guided Illya’s hand to Napoleon’s own engorged penis.  “Only when I can’t get something Kuryakin shaped.  Of course, this isn’t exactly the best of situations.”

“And again I will repeat, don’t worry about the wind, instead think of what we will do tomorrow night, in a large bed with fewer clothes and much more room.”

“Mmm, I should warn you… I like to go for the long stretch.”  He felt Illya chuckle and kiss the back of his head.

“Excellent, then we are matched.  My recommendation, then, is to sleep tonight for we shall have no rest tomorrow.”

Napoleon grinned and then sighed.  “That all being said, I need to get up.”

“What?”

“Nature calls.”

“Don’t wander,” Illya warned.  “Just don’t pee on the tent.”

Napoleon dug his way out of the tent and crammed on his boots.  He unzipped the tent and stepped out into the night.  The cold nearly robbed him of his reason for being out here in the first place, but he, being the daring UNCLE agent that he was, succeeded.

He turned to climb back into the tent and stopped, gasping.  Instantly Illya was there, weapon drawn.  “Napoleon , what’s wrong?”

The moon had risen and lit the side of a lone pine tree.  It practically glowed against the night.  “Look at that.”

Illya lowered his pistol and nodded.  “It’s beautiful, but let us retire now and wax poetic about it later.”  He started to retreat back into the tent,

Napoleon, however, was entranced.  “What do you suppose it means?”

Illya paused then and smiled, the moonlight cast a pale blue light over his features.  “Something solo and apart from the rest is suddenly illuminated by an unexpected source.  I think someone is trying to tell you something.”

Napoleon turned, knelt and gathered Illya into a rough embrace.  “I think someone has succeeded,” he murmured before kissing his partner.  It was to be the first of many kisses that followed, but for Napoleon none of them would ever be as sweet as the one he stole in the frozen woods, a boy lost, a man discovered.

 

 

 


End file.
